


On the Run

by pass76



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: F/F, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-20
Updated: 2018-05-26
Packaged: 2019-03-07 03:57:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,914
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13426317
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pass76/pseuds/pass76
Summary: Stiles saw it, he saw the murder of Alicia Bee. Now Stiles has to go into witness protection until he can testify and put the guy who did it away.





	1. PROLOGUE

**Author's Note:**

> This is still a work in progress so pleace be kind. I will try to upload as consistently as possible but you know work and stuff. Don't be afraid to leave comments just keep in mind this is my first work so :) You can find me on tumblr at septsaph  
> ENJOY :)

_**Stiles-** _

 

  
Stiles was 23 when he saw it. The murder of Alicia Bee. The bad thing was that Stiles was friends with Alicia. He liked her. He didn’t want her to die. Stiles knew that there was a killer on the loose near Berkley, but what he didn’t know was that he was going to be on the way back to his apartment from work and just happen to look down the ally and see the murder taking place.  
  
Stiles took a picture and then called the cops, by the time that they got there she was already gone. Stiles talked to the police and gave a statement, one that included the description of the man and the picture that Stiles managed to take. That’s when the letters started to come.  
  
The first letter threatened Stiles life, the killer said that Stiles wasn’t really his type but maybe he could make an exception. The second letter threatened Stiles dad, saying something about how he knew people in Beacon Hills, bad people, and that being the Sherriff made him an easy target. The third letter threatened Lydia and Malia, saying how maybe Stiles wasn’t his type but Malia and Lydia where.  
  
That’s when the detective decided to fake Stiles death. Stiles didn’t really get to say goodbye to anyone, he had time to call his dad and that was it. The detective told him that it wouldn’t be long, that Stiles could trust him. And Stiles did, Stiles trusted him because Stiles has never not trusted authority. So Stiles went, Stiles went to a small cabin in the mountains of Oregon and waited for the word of the detective.  
  
Stiles was only allowed to tell his dad about his sudden disappearance, no one else knew. Stiles was allowed to pack a quick bag, to which Stiles put all his hoodies and magic books in, right before the detective picked him up and moved him to the mountains.  
  
Stiles Stilinski became Adam North, an English major working on his new book, needing the seclusion. Stiles was only allowed to talk to the people in town and that was it, that and the occasional phone call from his dad. Sties was alone, and that never gripped him more than in that moment.  
  
Stiles was alone, completely alone.  
  
  
  
  
_**The Sherriff-**_  
  
  
When Stiles called him to tell him he would have to go into protective custody the Sherriff knew what it meant. It meant he wouldn’t be able to talk to his son but a few times a year, letters to an Adam North, from a Ben North, Adam’s father. Noah may be nothing but a small town Sherriff but he wasn’t stupid.  
  
The worst part was that Noah couldn’t tell anyone, it was a secret that he would have to keep, a secret to keep his son alive. He knew Stiles loved to get into the middle of things, but this thing, this was next level. Moving to an address in the middle of nowhere Oregon, where no one really knew Stiles Stilinski.  
  
Stiles Stilinski, the criminal psychologist major who hoped to go to the FBI for a job. Stiles Stilinski, the child with a dead mom and a dad he couldn’t talk to. Stiles Stilinski, the person who had a funeral where his best friend and his ex-girlfriend cried over a casket with a body was not really his. A car accident, which was what the agent came up with. After years of driving that hunk of crap Jeep around it had finally ‘killed’ his son.  
  
Noah saw the whole town look at him, wondering if he’d survive this death, or if it would be like it was when Claudia died. If he would go back to consulting the bottle like he used to. The only consultation that Noah ever got was that he was able to call Stiles once a month and write him countless amounts of letters. Stiles only wrote back once in a while, per the request of the detective.  
  
Noah was alone, completely alone.

 

 

_**ERICA-** _

 

Erica watched as her pack fell apart, all because of the death of one boy, one amazing boy. Stiles was, in a way, the glue that held the pack together. Stiles was Derek’s anchor, Stiles was Scott’s right-hand man, Stiles was Lydia’s best friend, and Stiles was her batman. Not having him around was like there was a missing piece right in the center of the puzzle and there was no way to get it back.

Lydia was refusing to come home from MIT. Jackson, Aiden, and Ethan were going to live with her in Massachusetts. Scott was falling apart, Liam and Isaac having to take over the reins of all the pack business. And although Liam and Isaac were taking a hold of pack business, the only one who was emotionless enough was Theo, and although Li trusted him, not everyone did.

Kira hasn’t left Malia’s side, having to be between her and Scott, neither of them being able to bare talking to each other. Mason was really taking what Stiles told him really seriously, trying to maybe replace Stiles. And poor Corey, just trying to regulate it all.

Allison was also refusing to come back from Paris, staying there with her dad a little bit longer, only contacting Lydia and Isaac. Boyd was quieter than usual, which was a weird thing for Erica to say. Jordan was busy keeping the Sherriff company, even though he missed the shit out of Lydia. And Derek, he was so sad, having trouble trying to control his wolf, having trouble going through every moon, not just the full ones.

And Erica, she was okay. Sometimes she found herself going to send a text to a person who wasn’t going to answer. Sometimes she found herself heading over to the Sherriff’s place but never going in because she never knew the right thing to say. ‘I’m so sorry about your son’? It just never felt right to her.

So Erica visited his grave, sometimes took a deep sniff of the soil hoping to be able to smell him. She knew that sometimes Derek and Scott would visit his room and just wallow in his scent, but that was too morbid for Erica. So she sat by her phone, waiting for a message that she knew would never come.

 


	2. Chapter One- Stiles

Stiles was at home, reading a book by the fire when he got a notification for a letter in his P.O. Box down in town. So Stiles put on his extra coat, mittens, and a scarf around his neck. He took one look ta himself in the mirror and what he saw sort of scared him.

Stiles was still the same as always, his eyes still brown, moles still where they were supposed to be. But now there was a beard along his jaw, long and horrible looking. His hair was long and hung out in a curly mess under his beanie. He looked awful, he looked like he had been through hell, and he mine as well have been.

It had been two years, two long years of having to endure the mountains, and snow, and being lonely. Stiles got letters from his dad every two weeks, wishing him a happy birthday, telling him how everyone else is doing, how Scott is slowly rebuilding the pack, how Derek still hasn’t found an anchor, still sleeping in Stiles bed.

Stiles hoped that this would be that kind of letter, maybe his dad talking about how things were different and the same. Talking about everyone else was one of the only ways that he was able not to go insane. Learning about Derek, hearing about Scott, Erica, Lydia, all of them.

So Stiles goes down to the P.O. Box and sees a package, a book with a letter on lop. A letter from Ben North. Stiles stops by the store, getting food for a few days, then stopping by the small bookstore owned by the lady that lives next to him. When Stiles gets back home he sets his book and letter down on the table next to the medication he should be taking.

Stiles takes off his coat and hangs it on the back of his chair before turning round to sit in it. He stares at the book before opening the package, tearing the paper apart, and the opening the cover to see what his dad wrote inside this time.

            _‘Derek came over again, brought this with him, said it reminded him of you –Dad’_

Stiles smiles, holding the book in his hand, running his finger along the spine. Knowing that Derek has held this book, held something that reminded him of Stiles. Stiles set it aside, reaching for the letter, opening it and then smoothing out all the crinkles.

 

_Dear Adam,_

_Derek was upstairs in your room while I wrote this. It seems as though he is the only one that holds onto you the way that I do. Scott has found a way to run the pack, with Theo at his side none the less (everyone knows that you’d hate it, they just don’t say anything). Theo has found a way to feel, has felt with Liam (that’s what Erica says at least). She comes over too, and to be honest, I think she misses you the most._

_I go to your grave with Derek, and I can’t help but think about how much this breaks him. He probably wants you here more than I do. Not that I want to sound rude or anything son, but just stating the truth. I wish that I could tell him about this, about you._

_Lydia came back to Beacon Hills last week, slept in your room sense, with Derek. Which hasn’t turned out all that bad actually. Lydia did yell at him once, something about Lydia basically handing you to him on a silver platter? I guess that’s what happens when she goes to MIT and you going to Berkley, staying near home, near Derek._

_Also I am sending new movies to you, all of the Star Wars ones and the superhero ones that you like so much. I miss you son, I miss you so much. And I love you, love you more than you could ever know._

_Love you S,_

_Dad_

Stiles sets the letter aside, planning to read it again after dinner. Stiles picks up the book and turns his hands over and over before setting it at the table. Ever sense Stiles came up to this cabin in the middle of nowhere he’s been trying to channel his spark. It’s worked some days more than others, being able to make dinner or clear the snow out of his driveway in order to go downtown, but nothing this complicated, nothing like what was in this book.

But this book reminded Derek of Stiles, and dammit Stiles was going to ty it. Stiles thumbed through some of the spells, some about healing, some had different concoctions to help with different wounds, but there was some …. Some about telepathic connection, some about granting wishes, and some about helping someone find love.

Stiles knew that all magic has some underlying rules or twist that people didn’t tend to see, especially if it was something as complicated as a _telepathic connection_. Stiles open the book to the spell, the one that could create a telepathic connection and Stiles started reading.

           

_Telepathic connections: not all telepathic connections could be wanted or reciprocated, at any moment what one sees the other could see, whoever you are thinking about in the moment could be who you are reaching in your telepathic connection._

_Pros: good for battle, lovers, those who are stuck with magic, this spell can help fully develop your powers_

_Cons; does not always work, can cause one of the two to go crazy, supernatural creatures are more prone to feel the others feelings more intensely, can also be more prone to having episodes were you can see what the others are seeing_

Stiles shrugs his shoulder, pushing the book away from him and standing up to make dinner. Thinking over dinner, that was the best way to do it right, it’s what he did when he was home.

Stiles pulled out a piece of frozen deer loin, taking out a skillet, deciding maybe that and a baked potato would be good. Stiles starts dinner, standing at the stove with his arms crossed and eyes focused on nothing. Then Stiles started thinking about them, about his pack.

Stiles thinks about Scott, his floppy dark hair and uneven jaw, about his unwavering hope in all things good in the world. Stiles thinks about Liam, his naïve way of believing in people, about how much hope he had in Theo, even when Theo made him kill Scott. Stiles thinks about Lydia, her beautiful strawberry blond hair, the smell of it when they would curl up in bed when they would visit each other. 

Stiles thinks about Malia, about her and Peter, how she was going to try. Stiles thinks about Derek, his dark hair, his chiseled chest, the fact that he wouldn’t leave Stiles bed, wouldn’t leave Stiles father. Then Stiles thinks about his dad, about the fact that he and his dad haven’t hugged in over two years, how the only way that he can tell his dad he loves him is through words on a piece of paper.

“Dammit,” Stiles yells, tears escaping his eyes, slamming his hand down in the counter. “Fuck,” Stiles shakes his hand in pain, turning the piece of meat, careful not to burn it.

When Stiles deemed it done enough to eat he puts it on a plate with his potato, setting it on the table. Stiles sits at the table, setting his fork on one side of his plate, the knife on the other, and his bottle of beer just at the top right corner of his plate.

Stiles sighs looking at his food. This couldn’t be it, it has been two years and this could not be it. There had to be some sort of break in the case, something that could help Stiles get out of here.

He let his friends think that he was dead for over two years. He hasn’t been able to tell Scott how dumb his plans were. He hasn’t been able to tell Malia that he forgives her for being with Scott. He hasn’t been able to apologize to Lydia for breaking her heart. He hasn’t been able to tell Derek the truth about why he ended up at Berkley for his graduate degree. And most of all he hasn’t be able to touch his dad for two fucking years, and that one had to be the one that hurt the most.

He was doing the fucking spell. Stiles was going to eat dinner, shave, and then do the spell. He was going to create a telepathic link with someone, he didn’t know who yet, but he was going to do it with someone.

*

After dinner Stiles went into the small bathroom that was at the other end of the cabin and looked at himself in the mirror, like really looked. He was almost unrecognizable. He looked nothing like what he did the last time that the pack saw him.

His hair was longer, the bags under his eyes were more prominent than they have ever been, even after the whole possessed thing. His beard was more than just scruff, it was scraggly enough that he could pass for someone else.

Stiles grabbed the scissors that he set on the counted neatly next to the razor. He started with the ends of his beard, trimming it as short as he could to be able to shave the rest. As the hair started to fall in the sink Stiles started to feel lighter and maybe a little more hopeful.

Stiles cuts the ends of his hair while he’s at it, wanting it gone too, for that to feel lighter as well. When Stiles is done he looks in the mirror, noticing all of his key traits. His moles that dotted his cheeks and neck, his noticeably full pink lips, his brown eyes that had a hint of gold in them. He looked like himself, like maybe, just maybe he could do this, and maybe he could wait.

Stiles heads into the living room, taking the mirror off the wall and setting it on the floor, leaning it against the wall as he sits in front it with the book in hand. Stiles opens the book to the page the spell was on and sets it out in front of him, smoothing out the pages before meeting his own eyes in the mirror.

Stiles was going to will this to work, this spell was going to work, he knew it. So Stiles looked back down at the book, willing all of his magic, every part that he could feel, into this spell. As he started to chant the words he could see them floating around him. He could feel the familiar tug of his power at his chest, helping him lean into this third plane where all magic took place.

Then he saw him. Saw Derek asleep in his bed, in _Stiles_ bed. He saw the overgrown facial hair that decorated his chin, saw the long dark hair that he just wanted to tug, and saw the muscles in his arms twitch as though he was trying to hold onto something. He chose Derek, Stiles chose Derek.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I said that I would post every Friday and then it was a Wednesday and I haven't posted, so here we are. There may or may not be another update tomorrow depending on my schedule, I have a big test on Saturday so maybe after that. Thanks for reading and sorry for bein an unpunctual person :)


	3. Chapter Two- Derek

CHAPTER TWO-

 

Crisp fall leaves, fresh fallen snow, fire crackling in the fire place, a red beanie strewn over a navy blue coat, the mountains, and a black Jeep. A flash of pale, mole dotted skin, long fingers, shaking as they held a rifle, and a book with the pages being ruffled. The smell of home, of sadness, of  _alone._  The book, the book Derek said reminded him of Stiles. 

Derek sits up so fast that the room spins, almost fast enough to make him want to lay back down again. Derek looks at the clock, 3:15 am.  _Fuck_ , Derek though,  _another night of no sleep_. Derek stands, heading to the bathroom, to Stiles bathroom. Derek hasn’t left here in two years, still finds himself wallowing in all of his things, in the hope that maybe, just maybe, Stiles will come home. 

Derek looks at himself in the mirror, beard grown out, hair a mess, bags under his eyes. He was a fucking werewolf, he shouldn’t have bags under his eyes. Derek bends over and splashes his face with water, deciding maybe to go ahead and take a hot shower. The Sheriff wasn’t home, still at work, just like he told Derek he’d be. Ever sense Stiles died, Noah has hardly left the station. And when he was home he was sitting at his desk in the office with a bottle of whiskey and his head in a file. 

When Stiles passed Cora came back to town, came to make sure that Derek wouldn’t fall apart again. He hid it from her, hid the dark circles, his weakening immune system, the way his hands sometimes shook. It tended to happen sometimes, a wolf becoming so vulnerable after a loved one passed away, and it was happening to Derek. Derek was sure that the others could see right through him, right through this charade. He was sure Scott knew, although he never said anything. Lydia saw it the second that she walked through the front doors after finally coming back. 

Lydia saw everything, from the way the pack was functioning because of Theo, to the way Noah still hadn’t dealt with the death of his own son. When Lydia came she took care of everything telling Derek, ‘Am I the only one that can do this shit, you all need to get it together,’ even though that very same night her and Derek slept in Stiles bed together, and just looked at each other and wallowed in his sheets. The smell of him was slowly disappearing and Derek hated that, hated that he was starting to run out of things that reminded him of the boy. 

“ _Dammit_ ,” Derek yells, slamming his fist down on the marble countertop. Derek looks at himself in the mirror, he was a pitiful, sad, horrible, excuse of a werewolf, of a man. 

Derek turn on the shower, going back to the room to grab his phone, letting the water heat up for a moment. When Derek gets back to the bathroom he undressed and opens his phone, opening the pack group message and the message from the Sheriff. 

\--

_Scott: almost 2 years_

_Lydia: we know_

_Scott: pack meeting on Fri?_

_Malia: yeah_

_Mase: yeah sounds good_

_Liam: thumbs up_

**Derek: I’m in**

\--

_Noah: I’m pulling a double son don’t wait up on me :)_

**Derek: okay, see you for breakfast**

_Noah: yes son_

_Noah: shouldn’t you be sleeping_

**Derek: I couldn’t**

_Noah: I understand see you soon_

\--

Derek steps into the heat of the water, letting it fall over his tense shoulders. Maybe he should get a massage, but then again he didn’t like the idea of someone touching him like that, someone other than Stiles touching him like that. 

Derek shakes his head, trying to shake the feeling of him away, shake the thought of him, but he couldn’t. Couldn’t stop thinking about the way he looked the last time that Derek saw him. He was back for thanksgiving and he invited the pack over for dinner, taking all the time he could with them. He was still as tall as the last time that Derek saw him, moles still dotting his face, lips still pink and full as ever, making Derek think about some pretty inappropriate things while sitting at the dinner table with his dad, ex-girlfriends, and the rest of their pack. He was shoving the food in his face, cheeks full when he lifted his head to look at Derek, a smile just between the two of them. 

Derek felt a tear fall down his face, mixing in with the water that was already making his hair flop in a, undoubtedly, not so hot fashion. Derek reached out to the memory, trying to get it to stay, that way he could reach it and touch Stiles just one more time. Brush his cheek, let his thumb run along his bottom lip, run his hands through his unkept hair. Derek’s chest started to ache in a way that wasn’t unfamiliar, in a way that Derek had come quite accustomed to in the last two years. Derek stands up straighter and runs his hands through is hair. 

Derek finishes his shower quickly after that, washing his hair with the same shampoo that Stiles used to wash his hair, not being able to buy the old kind Derek used to use. When Derek gets out he dries his hair and puts the towel around his waist, opening the bathroom door to let some of the steam out. Derek dries off before heading back to Stiles room, grabbing a pair of his boxers and a t-shirt deciding to lay back down for a bit before Noah got back home. 

Derek curls up in the bed, taking one of the pillows and holding it tight to his body. Lydia has been gone for a couple of days now, going to stay with Malia and Erica for a while. Derek shifts, turning to look at the ceiling when he feels a jolt in his chest, almost like someone is tugging at his heart, pulling him toward. 

Derek sits up, eyes wide open as though he has been doused with ice water, and he sees it again, sees his dream. Crisp fall leaves and fresh rain. Freshly fallen snow and a warm fire. The glow of candles and a book laying on sheets in an unmade bed. The smell of home, of soap, of sadness, of loneliness. Then he sees him, sees him so clearly that Derek thinks it’s a dream. 

Stiles sitting on the floor in front of a mirror with the book out in front of him, the book that Derek told The Sheriff that reminded him of Stiles, of his spark. Derek’s eyes went wide and he felt as though all the breath had been knocked out of him. 

“Derek,” and it was a whisper, a whisper of a voice that he hasn’t heard in two years, a whisper of a voice that he would do anything to hear again.

Derek reaches out, trying to touch him, touch the soft looking boy, his hair a floppy looking mess, eyes sad but still brown, brown with golden flecks. 

“Stiles?” Derek questioned, thinking that maybe he really had gone crazy. That maybe he had driven himself to the point of madness, to the point where he was hallucinating the sight of Stiles in a bedroom he refused to leave. 

“It worked, it worked,” he says quietly, his hand too reaching out. And two years ago Derek would believe that Stiles would be jumping around in joy, but this Stiles is modest, calm, and grounded. 

When their fingertips finally touch Derek feels a fire starting to build in the pit of his stomach reaching his chest and taking home there. There’s a burst of light and then a tug in Derek’s chest like a rubber band snapping back into place right before it wraps itself around his heart, tightening and not wanted to loosen or let go.

“You’re...” Derek starts, voice fading into nothingness, tears welling up behind his eyes. 

“Please don’t cry,” Stiles says, laying his palm out against Derek’s fingers, waiting for Derek to do the same. 

“I can’t...” Derek tries to start again, unable to get any words out that could mean anything. 

“I know,” Stiles says, fingers brushing along Derek’s palm, but Derek doesn’t move, scared that the moment would pass if he so much as took a breath. “Derek, I miss you.”

“I miss you too, miss you more than you could know,” Derek says, going to intertwine his fingers with this vision, this twist of air. “Is this, is this real?” Derek asks, needing to know that he wasn’t going crazy. 

“Yes, it’s real,” Stiles take a breath, “God dammit Derek, you’re so, so beautiful.”

Derek sucks in a breath of his own, unable to believe that he was talking to Stiles, to a ghost of Stiles, but still _Stiles_. “Me? Beautiful? You look like a dream,” Derek says, voice not above a whisper.

“Oh God what I would give,” Stiles starts, reaching past Derek’s outstretched hand and going to caress his face. Derek feels the ghost of a touch, just a light brush of skin on skin and it has Derek reeling, has his wolf howling inside of him.

“How is this real? Is this real? Are you alive?” Derek asks, the words all seeming to come out at once, Derek needing all of his questions answered before this version of Stiles was gone.

“I did magic. I’m a spark Derek, remember?” Stiles asks, letting a bit of magic roll through his fingers and reach Derek’s face, something that shouldn’t be able to happen if Stiles wasn’t there, right there in front of him. And the magic falls over Derek, almost like a blanket, making Derek feel safe and whole again, as though Stiles just gave Derek a little piece of himself.

“Yeah I remember, but Stiles…” Derek starts again, trailing off into nothingness, waiting for Stiles to come up with the answers, waiting for him to tell Derek what Derek needed to hear.

“It was a spell in the book that reminded you of me. My dad, he sent it to me,” Stiles says, looking down, not meeting Derek’s eyes.

“No, please don’t look away from me. I need to see you, after two years of no fresh memories I need to be able to see you.”

“I love you,” Stiles says, and Derek moves to respond to say it back to him, but Stiles stops him with the flick of his finger. “I didn’t get to say it while I was there and that was the one thing that I have regretted for the past two years, Derek. I needed to say it before there was a chance that I wouldn’t be able to.”

“I love you,” Derek says, letting his hand go to Stiles cheek, rubbing at Stiles bottom lip. It was weird because Stiles was there and Derek could feel him, but not really feel him at the same time.

“I created a telepathic bond between us, I reached out, just trying to find someone from the pack, but I found you. You were laying in my bed and as much as my dad had told me that you were, I still didn’t believe him. But there you were, freshly showered and holding onto my pillow as though it was a lifeline, and how could I not choose you?”

And there was the Stiles that Derek knew so well. “Okay,” Derek says, sighing, worrying about how much stress this could be causing Stiles, to stretch his magic like this. “I want to see you for real.”

“Not yet,” Stiles says, breathing in a little, and Derek wishes he could take him in his arms and hold him forever. “But I am going to write you, tell my dad you know.”

“Okay, I just don’t want you to go.”

“I’m not going anywhere, I’ll be with you all the time, all you have to do is call for me loud enough okay?”

“Okay.”

“And if you ever see things, it’s me, you’re seeing me.”

“Okay.”

“I love you Derek.”

“I love you too Stiles, love you so much.”

And then he was gone. There was a buzz in the air, the leftover magic needing to settle before there would be a calmness in the room. Derek still felt the tight rubber band around his heart, taking comfort knowing that Stiles was right there. Derek still felt the feeling of wholeness, no matter that Stiles wasn’t there anymore, Derek knew he was alive and that’s all that seemed to matter.

*

Derek was sitting at the table when Noah got home. Two mugs of coffee, black, two plates of bacon and eggs waiting to be ate. Derek was emitting this soft glow, could see it in his face when he looked in the mirror. The bags under his eyes were gone and he was feeling a little bit whole again.

“Son are you alright?” Noah asks, taking off his belt and placing it on the stand near the door, dropping his keys in the bowl right next to it.

“I’m better than alright,” Derek says, taking a bite of his eggs and a sip of his coffee now that the Sheriff was sitting at the table.

“Well?” The Sheriff says expectantly, waiting for Derek to go on as he too take a sip of his coffee.

“I know,” Derek says, meeting the Sheriff’s eyes.

“Know what?” Noah asks.

“Stiles is alive,” Derek smiles at the Sheriff as he chokes on a bit of coffee.


	4. Chapter 3-Stiles

Stiles was tired. He has never had his magic reach that far, never had to hold a bond like that. But the wholeness that he felt in his heart was worth it. The tug of the magic was still there, wrapped around his lungs, and he knew that it was Derek, that tightness was Derek. He had snapped right around Stiles insides and Stiles was going to keep him there.

Stiles got up and left the mirror and book on the floor, deciding that maybe it was time to sleep. His spark was tired, he needed the rest, and maybe this would be the best rest that he has had in two years.

Stiles headed to bed, pulling the sheets back, flopping down. He looked up at the ceiling, closing his eyes and willing his brain to remember what Derek looked like. He had a full beard, a little long and scraggly, his hair was still damp and floppy, freshly washed and product free. He had frown lines around his mouth like he hadn’t smiled in the two years that he had been gone. Stiles sighs closing his eyes and willing himself to remember Derek, remember what he looked like the last time that he saw him.

It was thanksgiving, Stiles decided to go home to see his dad before he had to go back to Berkley and take his exams. He needed a break, grad school was killing him, his professors were ass, and he just needed to go home. So he went home, inviting the whole pack over for a thanksgiving dinner like they haven’t had sense high school.

Derek was sitting at the table across from him, filling his plate with all sorts of food. His hair was styled neatly, Stiles knowing that he came here right after he was done with work. His facial hair had been cut short, his five o’clock shadow dusting his jaw and upper lip. He was smiling, laughing at the jokes the other pack members were sharing, and it was such a beautiful moment. Then Derek looked up at him and Stiles gave him a smile, mouth full of food.

That moment, that was the moment that Stiles was sure, he was sure that he loved Derek. Stiles probably knew a long time ago, but ever sense high school he was really good at deflecting his feelings. There were many moments before this one were Derek would look at him and smile at him, and it would be just between them.

Stiles missed those smiles, missed being able to be at a dinner table across from all of his friends and family, trading smiles with his few favorite people.

Stiles turns over and let’s himself face the window, seeing the light through from the moon coming through the shades.  The moon reminds him of all the times he has ran with the wolves and how his legs ache to do it again.

Stiles heart gave another familiar tug, and the restlessness that he was feeling was starting to ease a little. Stiles put his and over his heart, willing himself to feel that tightness. He closed his eyes and felt the rubber band around his heart, not too tight but snug enough that he could feel it. Stiles smiles, some of the anxiety slipping away.

*

A few days pass by with nothing from Derek. They don’t talk, Stiles doesn’t even dream about him. Stiles knew when creating this bond that it would be inconsistent, there wouldn’t be a certain time or day that he could just call Derek. It would come when it came and that’s it. Stiles was just going to have to wait.

Stiles was making himself dinner when a familiar sense fell over him. He turned off the stove and went to go sit at the table, closing his eyes and let his magic flow between him and Derek. Now that the bond was created Derek could call to Stiles, and he was doing that. Stiles could feel the rubber band snap around his chest.

Stiles knew he had to let the magic overcome him, so he sat back and let it come, let it wash over him. Then it started to materialize, he could see the inside of the loft come into vision, the smell of family and home. He put his hand out in front of him and saw shorter fatter fingers. He pulled his hand to his face, running his hands over a thick course beard.

 _I wanted you here for this,_ he heard Derek in his head but couldn’t pinpoint where it was coming from.

 _Here for what?_ Stiles answers back.

Then he sees them, sees his pack. For the first time in forever the little bit of anxiety that was constantly running through his veins was settled now. He could see Erica and her perfectly curled (short!) blond hair. He could smell Lydia in the air, could smell the shampoo that she uses. He could see Scott talking in the corner to Liam and Theo, could hear their mumbled whispers. He could see Malia and Kira talking in a corner, light smiles on both of their faces like they were afraid to smile all the way.

 _I can smell them,_ Stiles tells Derek, gripping Derek’s thigh, feeling the tight muscle as if with his own hand.

 _Take a deep breath in,_ Derek replies, _I’ll help you sort the smells._

Stiles takes a deep breath in, all of the smells almost making his head go fuzzy. He tries to focus on one at a time. Lavender that was the first smell, lavender.

 _Lavender, I smell lavender,_ Stiles says.

 _That’s Malia, she’s trying this new holistic thing, and she’s actually really good at it. She picked it up while she was visiting France,_ Derek answers.

Stiles takes a deep breath again, processing that information. _Peppermint and chocolate chip cookies,_ Stiles says.

_That’s Theo and Liam. Theo usually is the one that sells like peppermint and Liam is the one that smells like chocolate chip cookies, but they have been spending so much time together that it mingles now. It’s getting harder and harder to tell the scents apart._

Stiles takes a deep breath again, he was going to have to write all this down latter. _Leather, wow, lots and lots of leather._

 _That’s Erica and Boyd, she doesn’t wear anything else anymore. They spend so much time together that neither of them smell like anything else anymore. Part of that is your fault, she didn’t start wearing leather until you were gone._ Stiles can feel a smirk on his lips, on Derek’s lips. He lifts a hand to Derek’s face and runs the pointer finger over his lips.

Stiles snickers. _Sand, oh God is that sand?_

_Kira, she had to go back when you were gone. The sand walkers had to help her with control again._

Stiles lets his brain work over that for a minute before taking another breath in. _Dogs, that one’s Scott, you don’t need to tell me about that one._

_Nope. You got them all._

_Where are the rest of them?_ Stiles asks, needing to know.

_Jordy is at work, Ethan and Jackson are in London, helping with efforts with the whole hunter thing, Mason and Corey are traveling, Isaac is visiting France, and Cora went back to South America._

Stiles thinks about all of them for a moment, looking at all of their faces. The ache inside him managed to grow and shrink at the same time. Knowing that his people were okay without him made him feel good, but knowing was also a double sided sword.

On the other side there was that deep cut that he wouldn’t be able to touch them or see them in person until this case was solved, until the murder was caught. He wouldn’t be able to laugh with Scott or tease Liam about Theo. He wouldn’t be able to hug Lydia for real or ask Kira about the skin walker thing. He wouldn’t be able to ask Mason and Corey to show him pictures or ask Malia about her holistic medicine thing. But most of all he wouldn’t be able to smile at Derek over tables.

 _Derek can we go to the bathroom?_ Stiles asks. _I need one more look at you._

_Sure._

“Hey guys, just taking a little break,” Derek’s body says, smiling at the pack.

They all give him some sort of nod or wave of understanding.

Stiles finds that being in another person’s body is weird, almost as if your spirit is being carried by the owner of the body. It was weird but amazing at the same time.

When they are finally in the bathroom Stiles stops Derek in front of the mirror. Stiles makes Derek’s hand come up and caress his face, really feeling it, bit by bit.

He ran his fingertips over his eyebrows, and they didn’t really feel like big fuzzy caterpillars at all. He ran his fingers over his nose, letting his fingers blindly map the slope and tip of Derek’s nose. Then he ran his fingers over his mouth, taking not on the nice pink color that they were. Man Stiles just wanted to kiss those lips.

Stiles felt a dull ache that he had shunned away for so long that he forgot what it felt like. Forgot until now. _Stiles, next time I need to be with you,_ Derek says honestly.

 _Okay, I can do that,_ Stiles answers, he would have to tidy up the cabin, but maybe they could have dinner together, or read, or go over Stiles list that he was going to make. He was going to have to strengthen his spark to do that, but Derek was so worth it.

 _Until next time Der,_ Stiles says, caressing Derek’s lips one more time.

*

Stiles could feel his soul drifting away, drifting across the third plane of magic, before finally settling back into his own body. His limbs felt lighter and head less fuzzy than it has been in the two years that he’s been in this cabin. 

Stiles immediately gets up and walks into the den, pulling his latest journal off the shelf, opening it to the last page that it was on. Stiles smoothed out the edges and grabbed a pin from the bowl in the center of the table. Then he began to write, began to write all the things that Derek told him about his pack, about his friends. 


	5. Derek

Derek could tell that he was alone because he could feel the emptiness in his chest. It almost felt like some took and ice-cream scoop and scooped out all of his insides. He felt this burning sensational his knees and elbows making him sit on the toilet to gather himself It was probably just the aftershock of all the magic running through his body, making him feel as though he was on fire. He took a minute to correct himself, to school his face back into the stoic expression that he always wore. 

Derek walked back to the living area of the loft, sitting crisscrossed in the recliner while Liam, Theo, and Scott continued to talk over whatever was so important. 

“Hey bud,” Erica says, walking toward him and taking a seat on the ottoman that was in front of the recliner. “You’re looking extra broody today, what’s up?” 

“Nothing,” Derek says. He said it every time even though he knew that was never a good enough answer for Erica 

“Yeah right,” she says, rolling her eyes and leveling him with a look. “So how about we try this again?” 

Derek take a breath, looking over at Scott, making sure he wasn’t listening in. Everyone else looked as though they were in their own little world but Derek still didn’t trust it enough. “Can we go to the balcony?” He asks, needing a place quite and alone so he could talk.

“Yeah, sure,” Erica nods, taking his hand and leading him to the Balcony. 

There was a time in Derek’s life where things like this were hard. He tried not to open himself up to the people around him, but the older he got the less resolve that he had. 

There was also a time where Derek hated himself for what he did to Erica, Isaac, and Boyd. He hated himself for pulling them into this world where sometimes death seemed to be the only answer. He hated himself for leaving them alone for so long and making them trust Scott as the alpha without giving them the option of having him. 

Truth is he hated himself so he never gave anyone else the opportunity to live him, because  _he_  hated who he was. 

Once they were on the balcony, the door shut, Erica gives him a look of ‘ _okay ass, we’re out her, spill.’_ It was still scary to him how easy he could read them too. 

“It’s getting closer and closer to the anniversary,” Derek spills. It was the reason before Derek knew Stiles was really alive and now it was going to have to do as a reason now that he knew he  _was_  alive. 

“Oh Der,” Erica says, patting Derek on the shoulder before pulling him in for a hug. 

Derek breathes in the smell of her hair and he smiles, she smells familiar and happy. Derek takes a step back, holder her a arms length by her shoulders. “Somethings different about you,” Derek says, trying to calculate in his head exactly what I could be. 

She smiles at him and Derek can tell she’s trying to decide whether or not to tell Derek whatever it is she was hiding. “Well, I um,” she pauses, looking at their shoes a giant smile spreading over her face. “I’m pregnant Der.”

Derek starts to give a smile so big that he can feel his face split in two. “Oh my gosh,” Derek says, looking at her stomach and honing his hearing on her stomach. He could hear just the faintest of a heartbeat. 

“Yeah, we want for an ultrasound the other day and we have a picture of it, we printed off one for all of you,” she says smiling. 

“When will you know it’s gender?” Derek asks, unable to hide his happiness. 

“She said anywhere from another eight to ten weeks.”

“Erica,” Derek says, feeling tears prickling at the back of his eyelids. 

“If its a boy we’re going to name it after him,” and when she says that Derek can feel his heart physically break. 

“Oh Erica,” Derek whispers. 

“Don’t go crying on me,” she says through tears. “Don’t worry we’re not going to give the baby his  _real_  name.”

Derek gives a small chuckle at that. “Please don’t, that poor child.” 

“We also want you to be the Godfather, regardless of the sex.” 

“I’d be honored,” Derek smiles at her again, whipping away his tears with the back of his short sleeve. 

“Alright, we need to pull it together cause we have some official pack business to discuss.” 

“Okay.” 

Erica pulls him back into the loft after both of them whipped their tears away and gathered themselves. The pack was finally all sitting down in the living room, as of waiting for them to get back inside. 

“Alright,” Scots says, “let’s start.” 

*

The pack meeting was about the usual things, how long it’s been dense the last big bad (six months), about their perimeter spreading (there pack now had two counties in each direction), and about their allied packs (one just south of them in Florence county). 

They were doing pretty good, not too many things to worry about. It’s been quiet but that made Scott suspicious sometimes, made him take extra precautions toward another ‘invader’. 

“So Jackson and Ethan have been keeping an eye on the hunters as they move through Europe and are requesting back up. I’ve decided that Theo, Liam, and I are going. We’ll meet Mase and Corey in the airport in North Carolina before finally flying to France and meeting Isaac. We’ll team with the local pack to try to come up with some sort of armistice.” 

“Okay so who’ll be in charge here?” Malia asks Scott. 

“We decided that we’re going to leave Derek in charge. He’ll make any decisions when it comes to Beacon Hills and the pack in Florence. If we need back up he’ll decide who goes where.” Scott nods at Derek and Derek nodded back.

Derek hoped that nothing too major would happen in the time they were gone. Derek had this whole Stiles secret going on (which he still needed to talk _in depth_  with Noah about) and Erica’s pregnancy. Derek was going to have to take care of Beacon Hills again and as much as that terrified him it excited him at the same time. 

“What if they come back here?” Lydia asks.

“What do you mean?” Scott asks, tilting his head to the side, reminding Derek of s puppy. 

“Jackson and Ethan requested back up, to defeat the hunters. Well what if the hunters are trying to get you away from here, to draw you away. It leaves Beacon shills vulnerable.”

And Lydia had a point. Scott was going to leave Beacon Hills in Derek’s hands, which was fine, but he was also leaving Lydia, Malia, Kira, Boyd, Erica, and Jordan. It wasn’t a whole lot of hands on deck. 

“Beacon Hills won’t be vulnerable, it’ll be in the hands of a very capable Derek with you as his right hand. I have nothing to worry about.” Scott sounded confident, as if this decision was a good one that had all of his support and nothing could dwindle that support. 

“Okay,” Derek says, running through the details in his head. “How long will you be gone?” 

“Two weeks tops,” Liam says. “When we come back we’ll be bringing all the others with us.”

“As in Issac, Jackson, and Ethan are coming home?” Kira asks. She’s been silent the whole time but she was taking it all in. Ever sense she’s came back from the sand walkers Derek can see that she’s more calculating. 

“Yes, as well as Mason and Corey. We expect that the hunters will follow us here.” Theo says, not meeting anyone’s eyes. 

“And why’s that?” Malia asks, squinting her eyes and leaning toward out of the chair.

“We never had an armistice with them, it was more like they got terrified and left. So we predict after working with the European packs that they’ll, the hunters, will follow us back to Beacon Hills.” Scott is saying all of this whole fiddling with his hands, it makes Derek wish that he could tell them about Stiles. 

“Now you see why I’m worried?” Lydia says to Derek, gesturing at Scott.

“I know, we have to trust him. He’s alpha, if this is what he thinks is best then we’ll go with it.” 

*

Derek was waiting for the Sherriff to get home again. He made dinner and was waiting for Noah to get home so that he could really talk to him about Stiles. There’s a jingle if keys as an engine cuts off and Derek finishes pouring the sheriffs drink. Coke and whiskey. 

The front door opens and the Sherriff stops right by the key bowl. “Son you’re going to have to stop doing this, it scares me.”

“I know,” Derek pauses, taking a breath before just diving into what he needed to talk about. “I know that Stokes is alive and we need to talk about it.” 

“Son…” the Sherriff starts. 

“No, we really need to talk about it. He connected us through some sort of magic bond and I know, I know that he is alive. You don’t have to tell me where he is, I know that he’s hidden away because of safety reasons, but I need you to talk to me. I need you to tell me why I shouldn’t tell my pack.” 

“Derek…” the Sherriff starts again.

“Noah,” Derek evens him with a look, “I need to know.”

“Okay, just let me,” he pauses taking a sip of his drink. “Okay.” Noah takes a deep breath in and looks at Derek for a few more minutes. “He saw something, something he had no business seeing, but saw it anyways. The police at near Berkley thought that it would be best that he went into witness protection due to the amount of death threats we were receiving.

“The detective took him far enough away that we wouldn’t have to worry about it. I write him every now and again. I send the letters to the detective and the detective send them to him. You should write him next time.” Noah stops talking, shoving some food in his mouth.

Derek thinks for a few moments. “Why shouldn’t I tell my pack that he’s alive?”

“I’m not going to tell you what to do, that’s for you and him to decide.”

“Why did you keep this from us?” Derek asks, wondering why neither Stiles nor his dad trusted the pack enough to keep something like this secret. They were loyal to each other, a loyalty that never faltered, not ever for the weakest parts of the pack.  

“We needed to make it look real, we needed you to believe that he was really gone,” Noah takes another swig of his drink.

“And what about now? What about when it was going to be seven years and people were forgetting what he sounded like?”

“Derek, this was for the safety of my son, you have to understand,” Noah was pleading with him now.

Derek sighed, understanding. “I get it, I just, I miss my anchor so much. He was everything to me and I never got to tell him that before he left.” Noah gives him an encouraging pat on the back and Derek finds it comforting. “I forget what his skin feels like, what his laugh sounds like. I have no other anchor, I am an anchorless wolf.”

Derek leans in on himself, tears falling down his face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry it took me so long to update LMAO. I promise I'll do better next time, I'll give you like three chapters instead of one :/ -A
> 
> Come and chat with me on tumblr: https://www.tumblr.com/blog/septsaph


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